The Poetry Marathon

If the water taught me anything,
it’s this:
be still and listen.
Sometimes your answers
will become crystal clear
in the silence.

Shelves packed with books.
In here, I’m safe.
Where pain only comes
from plot twists
and paper cuts.
I’m never lonely.
Besides,
books have always been safer
than people anyway.

“Books were safer than other people anyway.” – Neil Gaiman

Her favorite fruit was pear
Said it reminded her
of the shape of my body
and how she’d like
to split me open
right up the middle
and feast upon me.
Oh, how I’d let her.
My darling clementine.
I’d love to peel each piece
of your clothing off,
and divide you into segments,
letting each juicy piece
roll across my tongue.
You’re the perfect snack
and I’m feeling quite hungry.

I’ve wasted so much time
saying yes to people
who don’t deserve it,
that I’ve been saying no
to myself without
a second thought.
It’s time for a change.

Free-write

You perfected your craft
of breaking me.
But I mastered the art
of putting myself back together.

Butterflies dance in the sun
A dragonfly joins them
The children have made a new friend.

Acrostic
Death personified.

Dark eyes drill into me
Everything around me blurs
As he makes his way across the room
Too bad no one else sees him
He’s finally come for me.

Nonet

Tonight, I’m feeling so damn empty,
like nothing will feel good again
and I don’t know what to do
to satisfy this urge.
Only you can help.
So come over here,
have your way
inside of
me

I sneak past the forest ranger
and run into the skyscraper trees.
So tall, the clouds become jealous of their height.
My heart is beating so hard,
but I’m just getting started.
Now, I climb.
Up up up
Past the birds
Past the clouds
and into the thinnest air.
I pause
and watch the periwinkle twinkle of the stars.
A sign from the universe
that it’s time.
And I’m ready to spread my wings
and jump.

Free-write

Words rest delicately
in the back of my throat,
hostage to a jaw
that no longer knows
how to unclench.
When I bite my tongue
I’m holding my trauma
between clenched teeth.
This mouth is my story’s prison.